Captain N: The Game Master

Season 5

"PAK"

PART 2

"STRIKING BACK"

WRITTEN BY
MATT SLATER

EDITED AND HTMLIZED BY
MARK MOORE

Saturday, September 11, 1993, 3:00 PM

His feet hit the cold metal floors as his teleportation came to an end. He slipped out of his black leather jacket, carefully examining the large burn hole in the back. He could still feel the sting of Riff's music. He easily eliminated the one called Mega Man for an indefinite period of time. It wasn't long before Mega Man's brother, Riff, made himself known.

And it was Wily's fault.

"What do you want, goat-boy?" Pak barely surpressed his rage. In one tussle, he had lost his glasses, his jacket, and the ability to protect himself from any harm. All due to Wily's attention-grabbing hologram.

Wily grunted in an animalistic manner. It was a trait that earned him the name goat-boy while in the presence of Pak. "Fine. Ten million. But it's going to be difficult, so I better give you something." Wily reached into a cabinet and retrieved a large, black, mechanical box. "This device will double the damage your glove can inf-"

Pak snatched the device from Wily's hands.

"It will, huh?" Pak looked at the device and viciously threw it against the wall. Not to Pak's surprise, it stayed right where it made contact. "You tried to wipe out years of data and weapons with a disguised electro-magnet." He turned from the wall to the goat-boy. "Wily, you ungrateful piece of sh-"

Riff examined the skull of the young man. "Dude, you got this big freakin' vein right there that's ready to bust outta ya forehead."

A few giggles were heard.

"Well, here's the deal. The Videoland Tecmodome has an outstanding contract with the Video Game Masters."

"Our band?" Stacey questioned.

"The same. Apparently, the band was scheduled to play one additional concert. The officials of Tecmoland know Kevin and Lana aren't here, but still say someone must play tonight." Riff waited for new complaints. "No suggestions? Fine. Mike, Stacey, and I'll take the concert. The other part can be filled in by a 'droid."

"What about us?" Romeo probed. "What do we do during all this?"

"You're security. I'll be out in the open. Pak'll love that."

"If he knows." Mike pointed out.

"He knows. Trust me, he knows." Again, Riff paused. "We'll set up now. If we can get innocents out of the way ahead of time, I'd like to do that."

"Then why am I on stage?" Mike asked.

"Human shield."

"I see." The resident Game Master sank into his chair.

Riff eyed the crowd in the stadium, searching for Pak in any shape or form. He turned to the drummer, Mike Vincent. "I don't see 'im."

An idea popped into Mike's head. "You set this up on purpose, didn't you? You want Pak to find you."

"Would you rather wait for him to ambush us?"

Mike shook his head.

"Then we do things my way for now." Riff inhaled deeply. "Time to get this over with." Riff walked to the microphone.

"Um, Riff, about your musical selection..."

"What?"

"Well, we normally play the theme from a video game or something."

"I don't play games, and, in case you haven't noticed, I'm not an actual member of the band."

"Okay, good point."

"Then it's settled. Ready?" Mike nodded, and Riff spoke into the mic: "Ladies and Gentlemen, Kevin Keene and Princess Lana couldn't be here tonight." A few 'awws' and 'boos' were sent forth. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Riff. My friends and I will be ensuring you get your money's worth out of this concert."

"Go home, butt-munch!" came from the crowd.

"I do strongly believe that your favorites will return home soon."

"You're an idiot, Riff!"

"Shut up!!!" Riff leaned off the stage, staring at the heckler from a forgotten video game. "I'll kick your ass!"

The no-name punk instantly melded into the crowd.

"Mike," Riff said, off of the mic, "count us off."

Mike clunked his drumsticks together. "1, 2, 1, 2, 3, 4 - "

Riff immediately took the mic.

C'mon, Pretty Baby,

Put your little hand in mine.

Feet are shakin' on the dance floor.

Everybody's doin' fine.

Don't waste another minute.

Step into the light.

C'mon, and dance with me tonight.

Tell your Momma that we're leavin'.

Tell your Daddy that we're gone.

Tell everyone in Philidelphia

There's a party goin' on.

So move a little closer.

Lemme hold ya tight.

C'mon, and dance with me, tonight!

As Riff made magic with his guitar, none of the N Teamsters working security noticed Pak drift in. He slipped in unnoticed, working his way forward in the crowd that had erupted. A brown denim vest took the place of his leather jacket. His hair was tightly pulled back as not to interfere with his peripheral vision, and his sunglasses were almost identical to his previous pair had the width not been extended on the lenses.

C'mon,...there's a party goin' on.

C'mon,...we'll be rockin' 'til dawn.

C'mon,...lemme sweep ya off ya' feet.

C'mon, pretty baby, won't ya dance with me?

Tell your Momma that we're leavin'.

Tell your Daddy that we're gone.

Tell everyone in Philidelphia

There's a party goin' on.

So move a little closer.

Lemme hold ya tight.

C'mon, and dance with me, tonight!

Pak began programming his glove. As quickly as he could think, he pressed the code of invincability - Up Up Down Down Left Right B A B A. Finally, ENTER. A brief blue light stemmed from within the bounty hunter, confirming the results.

C'mon, pretty baby!

Carefully Pak raised his arm.

C'mon, pretty darlin'!

So move a little closer.

Lemme hold ya tight.

C'mon, and dance with me tonight!

Not one second after the song had finished, Riff dodged a fireball that had appeared out of nowhere.

"Your dance card's full, boy!"

"Oh, great," Riff spat, "I didn't actually expect my plan to work."

"Uhmmm," Mike climbed from behind his drums, "I guess this is where that human shield comes into play?"

The crowd of pit-goers had dissipated, and Pak would be out in the open had it not been for one factor.

"Shoot me, and you shoot her!" Pak held a female concert goer with one hand, and aimed the gloved hand towards Riff. His weapon began to glow with power. "And you don't have the jam to do it."

Riff clenched his teeth, listening in his mind, over and over again, to what he had just been told. Unexpectedly, he plucked at one of the strings on his instrument. A small dart of energy leapt from the guitar and hit the girl square in the shoulder. She fell to the ground, unconcious.

Riff attached his guitar to a magnetized plate on his back. "Cuz we don't have a pocket teleporter that responds to brainwaves. Or, at least, that's my best guess." Riff flipped up a plate on his left forearm. "Pop?"

"Go ahead, Riff." Doctor Right replied over the comlink.

"Status report on Project: Piss 'im off even more."

"Pardon?"

Riff huffed. "Is it ready?"

"Oh. Yes, it's completed."

"Great, see ya in five." Riff jumped off of the stage and made his way through the crowd.